Nuclear power. When a heavy atom undergoes nuclear fission it breaks into two or more fission fragments. The fission fragments consist of atoms more lightweight than the original heavy atom. The sum of their masses do not precisely equal that of the heavy atom, even while accounting for the incident neutron. The difference (mass difference) consists of ejected neutrons and the release of binding energy. The neutrons leave the reaction at high speed, and may collide with other heavy atoms in a phenomenon known as „fission capture”. This could result in nuclear fission, forming the basis of a chain reaction. (Wikipedia)

There are very few powerful phenomena in the world and in our lives in particular that do not form chain reactions. It is for this reason that they (and ourselves) are so incontrollable and, in essence, beautiful. There is nothing, nothing in the world that my mind desires more, right now, than an answer. Yet, for all my certainties, I will keep asking questions („With quiet questions I find in my dreams / I play on the stage of all beings”).



Am I the one who, in the eyes of God and his peers, should harness and devour such power? Am I not to admire it and step carefully lest I should disturb it and alter its beauty?
And if I dare reach for it, because it is rightly mine, as sentient, all knowing being, is it fair that I require it to desire me equally?

This is not poetical. Not lyrical. You will not find a single metaphor in the expression of my thoughts. This is not writing, because it takes a skillful hand and a brilliant mind to write and I do not have, nor do I desire, either of them.

This is I, the simple fool who wants to kiss you now as he did a minute ago, but this time without end. To kiss every sentient inch of your body, until you forget and ignore the time and place of his kiss.

This is I, the savage who would tear your clothes off with his teeth and claws, with red eyes and lust in his growling voice, but who chooses to caress you instead with infinite gentleness, until your delicate skin swirls heated and restless and you shut your eyes tight and bite his lips in blissful desperation.

This is my answer: one event leading to the next, a door sliding to reveal a pair of eyes to another, their slow motion towards the common plane where they would meet, the rushing photons that take the lights and colors across the gaping feet away, the infinitely slower electrons that swarm through the mind and then to the heart, making it accelerate and drive more blood to the chain reaction, then the explosion, waving its way through days and weeks, until it reaches the full shape and in its glory, in the eye of the storm, the pairs of lips that seek each other when silence falls, then the subtle sounds of fear, that there is darkness after the day, that the embrace lasts only for measurable seconds; then the pairs of eyes hunting each other relentlessly, not to see, but to lose themselves, not to find, but to be found, in the rolling thunderstorm, with the two bodies knowing what to do, precisely, as atoms, as cosmic and mystic entities, leaving the minds and hearts alone to keep asking the same questions and to keep being fools or princesses as time goes by; then time stops.

This is I, the fool, the happy fool, laughing and crying through everything as it comes. The fool who made you a deal – that he should never be happy without you and you should never be sad without him.